In Sickness and Health
by MercyUntold
Summary: The last thing Roy is ready for when he stumbles in is Oliver to be home.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:** _No cash to show for the hard work.

_**A.N.-** _This is one of those I tried to burry and rid myself of for almost three years but shotamarquis (tumblr) never gave up on me or this piece. This one's for you for pre-reading and always having faith.

* * *

_**In sickness and Health**_

Roy bit down on his lower lip suppressing the gnawing urge swelling inside him. He could feel it bubbling up, that primal need to release a deep scream. His mind accelerated to life as he watched Oliver slowly trail his fingers up into the darkness of his shirt. His thoughts flooding with ideas of pleasure moments as the older man graced the pads of his fingers across the heated flesh of Roy's torso, working their way ever higher. He could feel the slight pressure of him prying gently at his shirt with the backs of his hands. Hoping to remove the garment that was so desperately clung to Roy's body, nearly plastered to his skin with the remnants of blood that had dried tacky from the wait. He wasn't critically hurt, but hurt enough still that Oliver had insisted on treating him as soon as Roy had pulled himself all the way through the open door and into the kitchen. He hadn't thought Oliver would be home, which seemed almost stupid now, it was his home after all.  
Roy fidgeted his hips in an attempt at making the counter top more comfortable. Just like he hadn't expected Oliver to be home, he had no idea the older man would force him up on the counter top until he was sitting like a child of ten before him while he poked and prodded around his wounds asking a question a second about just what had happened.  
"I'm fine, Ollie. Really. You don't have to play nurse."  
Oliver's eyes skirted up to Roy's face, dancing left and right about the boy's own eyes. Then as if he found something he had lost, he allowed a smile to peak past his concern for a moment or two.  
"Oh, but I have the cutest little outfit, with matching hat and shoes I can wear for you,"  
Pushing the laughter down, Roy sighed and rolled his eyes, turning his gaze away from the intensity of the blond before him.  
"Really. You would make jokes…"  
Oliver let that familiar warm sound fill the space between them, because he was never one to suppress a laugh no matter how dire the situation. It made his eyes dance warmly, as he let them linger in Roy's for a moment or two before honing in on his task at hand; removing Roy's shirt. It was like he was the original Jackal and Hyde; he never stayed on one emotion long. Oliver always fell back to neutral as if it was as normal as a winter snow fall. He was the type of man you had to watch every second during a conversation, or you would miss his reaction. As if he needed to make himself the complete center of your world, yet it happened so naturally that Roy wasn't even sure Oliver knew he was doing it.  
Pain shot through Roy as Oliver tugged a touch too aggressively at part of the torn fabric that was mildly glued in place.  
"Why- nnnhhhgggg -why don't we use warm water or- OW! Damn it! Oliver!"  
Oliver pulled his hands back in surrender and gave Roy an apologetic smile.  
"I'm not touching you any more, ok? You're safe."  
But the defenseless position did nothing. Roy tried to bite back on his growing rage. He couldn't stand pain, it made him pissy. Or at least that is how Oliver always put it.  
Through gritted teeth Roy spoke. "The hell I am. Go get warm water and a wash cloth or something. And stop trying to rip what is left of my flesh off with this damned shirt." But the force it took to keep up that grip on his jaw caused white flashes of light to dance in his vision so Roy had one choice left. He willed himself to relax his jaw so the pressure in his teeth would subside. He had begun grinding them in attempt to fight the pain of Oliver's less than graceful removal of his shirt so that he could get to the wounds but now, it was nothing more than a pit-bull bite, unyielding and painful and adding to the pain he was already in seemed pointlessly torturous.  
"Oh, Roy you know I have to strip you before you get the sponge bath. I don't care how the other nurses do it, this is my way and I am not changing it for you. Ne special treatments."  
All the joy drained from Roy's eyes. He was no longer playing nice, he was sick of the pain and wasn't going to take much more of this harassment Oliver was trying to use as a distraction from him pulling at the still fresh wounds marring his chest and torso.  
"It's not even that funny of a joke Oliver, so stop making it."  
Oliver's eyes danced about again as he scanned his young wards face.  
"I find it funny."  
And in that moment Roy; simply, forgot how to breath. The statement was so earnest, so real, that the anger he had been battling not seconds before just left him high and dry. Swallowing as quietly as he could, Roy pulled his eyes from Oliver's and looked down. His heart rate seemed to sky-rocket out of control at seeing the pleasure in the older mans eyes. He knew it was at his own expense, but some how that made it even harder to deal with. As if, some how, the thought of being the one who caused that joy felt beyond all measures of right. He forced his breath and pushed at the tight grit of his teeth, focusing his mind on the pain. The white hot pressure pulsating through his wounds and out over his body. He forced himself to delve into the pain and almost forgot about the hands sweeping across him. He was almost calm, until Oliver found a wound Roy wasn't aware he had.  
"GOD DAMN IT! OLIVER!"  
The older man's eyes shot up in horror at the sudden booming sound of the other's voice and scanned the enraged face staring at him in hopes of soothing what ever dragon he had just awoken in Roy.  
"Did I find something?"  
Oliver's eyes seemed so, dark. Masked by some level of fear that Roy didn't understand. Why did he care so much whether or not Roy was mad? Or even hurt? It wasn't like Roy had ever tried to be nice. He'd never played the roll of "good son" very well, and he knew that. Yet for what ever reason, Oliver still cared.  
"Sorry- you just, found another one on my side there…" Inclining his head down as if to point to the same spot Oliver's large hand had just been resting. "I didn't know-"  
Oliver's eyes swelled with understanding and he smiled, but only for a moment before he let his lips press flat.  
"Roy, you need to get out of your uniform and let me look you over. You are clearly more injured than you led me to believe and I need to clean you up."  
His eyes danced left and right trying to find a point in Oliver's to focus on. Knowing full well, he was doing the same thing Oliver always did to him, that he hated. Roy couldn't stand it when Oliver scanned his eyes like that. Like he was trying to read his soul through his eyes. He didn't want that, Roy didn't want some one that close to him. He didn't need some one to baby him, to care over him, fussing all the time. He was well enough off that he could handle himself. That hadn't been why he showed up here. He wasn't looking for Oliver to care for him, to clean him up. Was he? Doubt washed over every inch of his being. Leaving his eyes to search for something, some hint to an answer in Oliver. Knowing full well he wasn't focusing, he wasn't even trying to hide the darting back and forth as he moved from one eye to the next. He wanted this man before him to understand loud and clear he was looking for an answer, even if he had voiced the question out loud.  
Oliver chuckled softly before averted his eyes away from Roy's desperation. The heat spilling over from his stare was screaming magnitudes of emotion Oliver wasn't sure how to take. He had grown use to Roy's bacis moods over the years. His anger, his spite, even his wit but now, Roy's eyes screamed out for something new, and Oliver wasn't sure he was understanding just what they were asking for. They seemed so, broken. Roy's eyes held such a listless romantic need for compassion that Oliver felt like his chest would explode with heartache. As if the feeling of need had gone on for so long it had exhausted him. Never in his life had he stopped to think that maybe there was something more. A method to all the so called madness over the years. A reason Roy seemed so hell-bent on making Oliver so miserable, and something so simple as a plea. He rose to his full height and rested back on his heels, still avoiding contact with Roy's eyes. Oliver wasn't sure he was ready for what seemed to be happening.  
"I don't care how it gets done at this point, Roy. Just-"  
But before he could even breath the last of the words, Roy had his hands under his own shirt and with an aggravated yank he removed it. Fresh blood slowly oozed its way down his skin from the newly awaken wounds, angered by their loss of coverage.  
"There. Done."  
Roy's tone was sharp, and seemed to hang in the air. His eyes still locked on Oliver as he watched the older man squirm, hardly even averting his eyes to toss the matted and worn shirt. Roy felt almost heartless watching blond buckle up under the moment but he couldn't bring himself to stop it. He couldn't turn back now, if Oliver really wanted to help, Roy had to let all his guards down and he was going to start with this one.  
"Well, that gets the job done I suppose."  
Oliver's voice was softer that before, like he could since the fragileness in the air. He always was the one who caved under the pressure of a moment too intense. It wasn't because he was weak, Roy knew, he knew it was because he feared he was too strong. That his personality was too aggressive, to handle such tender moments. He feared pushing Roy away and that ate at him. Made him feel sick inside, to know that this man was so scared to loose him. Who was he to matter so damn much?  
Any normal person would have tried to reassure the other, tell them it was okay, that they wouldn't leave. But not Roy, in truth it made him want to run. He hated that others needed him. He never was the type to want to put faith in family, he had lost so many already that he just didn't have the need to want more. He liked being alone, or at least he has convinced himself of that.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A.N.-** _If you found that you really loved this piece or even just liked it a little and wanna know what happens next, leave me a comment telling me how far you'd like to see this go. I've thought about doing a smutty ending but for right now I think it's done. Change my mind?

* * *

"Just relax. The water isn't too hot, but- the soap might sting."  
His voice was still just above a whisper but some how it was deep, almost hoarse. The sound seemed to rattle from him and shake right through to Roy's core. It made him weak, his eyelids drifted heavily down, and his shoulders seemed to slump. His heart was the only thing that was fully alive. His blood felt like it begain humming through his veins. The feeling washing over him, reminded him of his stupor days; when he would drink a whole bottle himself. He was light headed and hot, he felt weak but eager to fight.  
Oliver gently brushed the wet cloth across Roy's left rib cage. He started high, knowing the water would slide down. He hoped it would help make less of a mess, but Roy wasn't having that. As the cloth trailed softly across his skin he shifted his body back so he was resting against the top cabinets, pulling his body out and forcing the water to rush faster down and spill across the counter top.  
"You buy the softest damn towels and wash clothes. I'm not even sure its right."  
His voice seemed to sink to the floor as it passed over his lips. Dropping octaves Oliver had never hear Roy reach. He seemed so content, and relaxed. Oliver slowly pressed the wash cloth lower, closer to the wound, trying so desperately not to disturb Roy. But he knew it would happen. He knew as he neared the redden skin around the gash, that Roy's whole composer would change and this moment would be lost. That he would tense up, and become dark again. Oliver hated that shadowed look in his eyes, those deep lines that formed under them. That made him look so more much older than he really was, so much more, - jaded.  
Roy could barely keep his eyes open. It took all he had to keep his breath seemingly normal. He wanted to watch Oliver work, to see his brow furrow as he focused on the wound, -on his skin. He wanted to dream for a moment, it was just his skin the man was eyeing and not the deep mar in it. But the mixture of the water and the soft cloth felt so good, he couldn't help but relax. The rough sent that was Oliver filled his nose as he shifted his upper body to the right, so his left side opened up more to the man, so he could clean it better.  
"Oh! Thank you, that- that helps a lot, Roy."  
Oliver altered his body so that is was closer to Roy. His eyes locked on his project at hand. Only looking away long enough to rinse out the wash cloth of blood. Roy watched him through half lidded eyes. His body ached deeply. It has been a long time since he had been hurt this badly. But it was the moments like this, that seemed to make the pain okay. Oliver placed his left hand on Roy's abdomen, leaving his mind reeling. Roy inhaled sharply, fighting hard not to arch his hips up into the warm contact of that hand. Oliver seemed, oblivious to it. He never stopped his work. Roy let his eyes close fully, taking in the sweet joy. He even let his mind wonder some. He knew what he was doing, was wrong. But he didn't have the strength to care.  
Oliver pulled his hands away, and rinsed out the cloth again. Roy wasn't still bleeding, but he would be damned if that made a difference. He felt like he was doing nothing more than pushing blood around, leaving trails and tracks smudged across his rib cage, hip and upper abdomen. The air chilled Roy's damp skin causing goose bumps to pucker his flesh as he sat there, letting his mind explore the darker thoughts he hardly gave into. Lost in his own, Roy was clueless to Oliver's eyes, exploring the marred, tender skin exposed before him. He was lost to the gentle expression on his face as he went back to work, trying to clean up the mess that he was leaving behind. All Roy could feel was the electric heat from Oliver's hand as it was placed back on his chilled skin. The heat spread across his abdomen like a small fire, causing his body to jolt forward into the point of contact. He hissed a low sound of pleasure as his hips bucked up, beyond his control, craving that touch.  
Oliver's eyes flashed up to Roy's face, flooded with panic he had hurt the younger man, and was only soothed when Roy's face was still calm, almost relaxed. He felt a smirk spread across his face, knowing the boy couldn't fight the feeling of warm water. He never could. He was oblivious to the thoughts that raced through Roy's mind.  
"Ollie"  
His voice was coarse, husky and low as it slipped from his lips nearly inaudible. He lifted his heavy eyes up to the man before him, and found their eyes met. Heat rushed over his face but he held that gaze. His lip pouting slightly in a need deeper than he wanted to admit he had. Slowly he swallowed down his hunger and turned his eyes away, catching his lower lip between his teeth. He couldn't bring himself to act, no matter how wonderful that feeling was, how sweet those thoughts were, that was a place there was not coming back from.  
Oliver watched the younger man in a slight panic. His face was flushed, his eyes seemed so glassy when he could catch glimpses of them.  
"Roy, are you alright?"  
Oliver was so gentle, as he shifted his hand from Roy's abs to his jaw. Lifting slightly so that their eyes met again. Roy moaned slightly and tried to resist the touch. Oliver had no idea what he was doing. No clue how close to the edge of reason Roy was dancing. How could he? Roy had been hiding it for years, masking it with rage, going so far as to explosively yell at the older man when he knew his mind was weak to the call. Slamming doors in his face to deter him from lingering to check if he was okay.  
He tried to not look into those loving green eyes, but Oliver wouldn't have it. He held the side of his face so softly, cradling his head in his hand that Roy couldn't help him self. He wanted to see that love first hand  
But the moment he did, he regretted it. The feeling washed over him so completely it smothered his very breathing, leaving him with nothing more that ragged gasps for air. His eyes widened slightly, he felt abnormally weak.  
"Roy, -Roy, talk to me. What is wrong boy? Is it-"  
Roy shifted his head away from the touch, blinking his eyes raptly to clear his mind.  
"It's nothing, Oliver- I'm fine. I'm just tired okay? Can you finish up here so I can sleep, or should I just take care of it my freakin self?"  
He couldn't stand to watch the pain spread through Oliver's eyes. It killed him as much now as it did when he was young, but it was the right thing to do. It always worked. The older man nodded, and went back to work, cleaning the deep wound on Roy's side. Roy watched the blond duck his head down, and focus his emerald eyes on the stains he was leaving behind. He fought against the pang in his chest, but it over whelmed him to see the light fade. He was loosing the battle for control, fast. Oliver placed his hand back on Roy's abdomen as he worked and the touch pushed that knot deeper. Pulling the overwhelming need to fix what he had caused above his own petty drama that he was living inside himself.  
"I- didn't mean to snap."  
There came no answer, even as Roy purposely watched the older work. Was he being ignored now? Honestly, was Oliver that upset?  
"Ollie!"  
It wasn't a yell, more a yip of a sound sharp off his lips to get the other to look back up. Which he did, eyes wide and his face twisted with shock, maybe he had done something wrong or painful again. But Roy shook his head and gave a small chuckle  
"You aren't even listening to me are you? You never listen."  
The young archer watched those dry lips part to protest, watched as his faintly pink tongue flicked out to soothe them before they closed again. He had nothing to say to that. Oliver was a lot of things, but a good listener had never been one and fighting that point now after all these years would have gotten him no where and he knew it.  
"I said, I didn't mean to snap at you."  
Those deep green eyes seemed to spark to life, like fire under emerald glass as he smiled up at his ward. They might have never had a great bond but Roy knew those smiles. He knew the honest sincerity that laced over them and it made him feel like he was at home again, that he was a child and welcomed for once.  
"I'm sure it was just the pain, and my lack of attention. We all get like that, you more than others but- Hey, it's part of that Harper charm."  
Roy scoffed, wincing at the pain it caused which turned his expression into a glare all over again. Oliver watched each phase happen counting the seconds it took to move through them, eight.  
"Harper charm. Really Oliver, and tell me who does that work on?"  
He bit his lip, pushing down a laugh at his mental answer of stray dogs and garbage men because he really didn't want to piss the younger off more than he was. Instead he shook his head and went back to cleaning the still oozing wound, his smile never fading behind his bright, almost white whisker covered face.  
"It works on plenty, you don't expect me to believe that you are still an innocent do you Red?"  
Roy watched the man before him shift so that he was watching for a reaction. He could see hints of that emerald shade under those faint lashes, feel them on his skin watching for the rise but he wouldn't bite. Not this time- he wouldn't give Oliver the satisfaction of a reaction. Even as his face flushed with heat, even as his throat got dry, not once did he say a word. But Oliver knew, even without words. He could see the change in his eyes. Roy would swear to it that he could even see the slightest change in his skin pigmentation.  
"I didn't think so. You are too much of a charmer to still pull that card on me. I might be old but I'm not stupid."  
Roy opened his lips to speak but Oliver was still watching him and cut him off his a firm press of his palm against those half parted lips.  
"Save it Roy. Out of all the excuses you could offer, none of them are going to be good enough to sway me." But Roy couldn't stop. His lips shivered, twitching with a need to say something even if it was against that calloused palm. To say anything that would stop this conversation from happening but the heat spilling to his cheeks mixed with knowing Oliver's eyes were still on him and he found himself buckling. "How many girls have you snuck through my windows? How many more did you not bother to bring home?" There was no a tone of jest in his voice, Roy struggled to put it there, to find a reason to slam his walls up and guard his heart against Oliver's questions but even with his damnedest of efforts he couldn't find a reason. Hell, he had half a mind to believe there was a hint of pain instead.  
"Ollie…I…" How broken of a sound did he need to make? How shallow? His own palms felt damp as he curled them into fists against the counter top. But he had nothing. No way to counter what ever it was that was going on, he was left just sitting there deaf and dumb as the older man took a step back and rose to his full height one more. Letting his spine uncurl, Oliver locked his cut-stone-eyes on his ward and just listened, standing there ready to hear what ever it was that was offered up with his hand moving away from Roy's lips to cup his jaw instead. Making their eyes meet as his fingers curled just behind the hollow of the younger man's ear he listened on to the dead air Roy was offering.  
Heartbeat pounding out of control as his brain scrambled to turn the tables, to make it an attack, to find a way to deny or even dodge but there was nothing but an honest look of wonder in the other man's eyes. "You. You never seemed to care…" He was struggling; against that touch, against that look, and against the flood of guilt settling in his chest. "Never told me not to. Let me. You let me…" But he didn't have the drive to hurt him. He wouldn't be able to stand himself in the morning if he broke this man's heart one more time. He knew the risk he was about to take, never seeing him again, losing that love and affection, never again being able to look upon him as a father figure without it being tainted but Roy couldn't lash out again. "I had to do something to distract myself from you." His voice had damn near failed him as his pitch reached a faint whisper. But Oliver leaned in, trying to catch every flux in the air before the weight of the words hit him. "I had to do something to stop myself Ollie. What was I suppose to do?" Try as he might Roy wasn't building strength. Instead his voice got weaker letting the cracks in his mask show as his eyes fell away from the blond man who haunted his dreams, waking or not. He felt that touch falter. The tips of those powerful fingers slipped away from his skin as Oliver stuttered to try and understand.  
"Me? I don't- What are you- Roy, I…"  
"What was I suppose to do Oliver? Confess to you? I was a kid. You- you wanted to be like my dad!" Roy couldn't stop it now, there was no turning back. He wanted to drop his walls but this was a full blown cave in. "I couldn't- stay here at night. Knowing you were down the hall. I couldn't watch you smile that fucking smile without a shirt on and listen to you call me your boy. I had to make you leave me alone. I had to…" He wouldn't cry, though his eyes stung enough to. But Roy wasn't about to crash fully. Pulling his anger around him like a blanket he wrapped it around his heart and let his face set into stone. Bitterness filling his eyes as he locked back on to the man before him. But Oliver was clueless, still struggling to come to terms with the information he'd just found. His lips half puckered and his eyes glossy, like he had just discovered the hard way his milk had soured.  
"Are you trying to…" Roy slid down off the counter top, moving his body closer to Oliver's, wounds and blood be damned. He'd meant to run, to push Oliver aside and walk out the door but he'd gone through too much too fast. Blood loss and rapid emotional confessions left him too tired to even take a step before he was crashing to the tile floor, and true to his natural reaction Oliver watched on in horror.


End file.
